Love is easy.
I’ve fallen in love four times over the last year. Maybe five, if you count last month, at the party, and then again two days later, in the restaurant, and then again yesterday, at the confident farmers’ market and over a nervous brunch and on a walk into a bookstore, a first tentative kiss in the room my parents wedded, and a walk around town, saying goodbye as the rain began to fall, on the day before Easter.
I’ve fallen in love four times over the last year. Maybe five, if you count yesterday.
Love is easy. Love is chemistry—as in science lab, high school. Love is as simple and bringing this (her brilliant green eyes) together with that (my sad but fiery heart).
But this isn’t love.
True love is friendship. True love resides only in the present moment. True love is reality. True love is up, true love is down.
“My friend is one who takes me for what I am.” ~ Henry David Thoreau
For it’s easy to love who I think she is, or who she thinks I am, the seemingly real manifestation of our longing that makes us happy. But what about plain old “me”?
Love is heaven, but it is earth, too. Love is a flower, planted, nurtured by the lonely rain-heavy clouds and warmed by the charismatic sun. Protected, but not sheltered.
Love is Spring!